


To Face Unafraid

by CatS81



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatS81/pseuds/CatS81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolyn takes an exhausted Douglas for a wintry walk....</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Face Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/gifts).



> The idea for this fic came from the lovely Linguini, and I am also grateful to them for the beta - thank you, as always <3
> 
> Just a little fluff to end 2015 - Happy New Year to you all, and I hope 2016 is a good one!

The afternoon was still and clear, the air crisp against her skin as Carolyn pulled her scarf tighter. The ground was brittle underfoot, frostbitten leaves giving a satisfying crunch beneath her boots, and she exhaled in contentment, breath escaping in a plume of white. She had been quite insistent about leaving the house in favour of a bracing woodland walk, though her proposal had been met with lukewarm acquiescence. Now as she glanced towards her companion she felt renewed concern nagging at her stomach; his face was pale, the lines around his eyes and mouth accentuated, shoulders slightly stooped. He was also suspiciously quiet, and she frowned, squeezing his forearm with the hand that was tucked into his elbow.

“You could have said ‘no’.”

Douglas blinked, turning his head. “Hm?”

“To the walk. You didn’t _have_ to come.”

He shrugged, broad shoulders rising and falling beneath the confines of his coat. “You said the dog needed walking.”

“She does. But I could have done that by myself.”

“It’s fine.”

He lapsed into silence once more and she sighed, focussing her attention on Snoopadoop who was sniffing the ground in an excited flurry. The cockapoo had been her excuse, her attempt at coaxing him from the house, to get some fresh air into his lungs. He had been away for close to a week, arriving home late the previous evening and falling into bed, his mood subdued from the moment the new morning had broken. She had tried to engage him in conversation, and when that fell flat brought him tea and a newspaper, retreating to allow him breathing space as she watched him with a surreptitious eye. Eventually she had lost patience, announcing her intention to brave the elements and strongly suggesting he join her, ignoring his reluctance as she pulled on her coat and gloves.

They continued on without speaking, their breaths unfurling into the still air, the weak sunlight warming areas of exposed skin. She pulled him to a standstill moments later, laying a hand against his chest.

“Enough of this now,” she told him in a firm tone, raising her chin to hold his gaze. “Are you going to tell me what the matter is or do I have to waste my time in guessing?”

He sighed, the air rattling through his chest. “It’s nothing.”

“So help me, Douglas, I….”

“It’s nothing specific,” he clarified, one hand straying to the small of her back as she moved to pull away. “I’m just tired.”

“Well, of _course_ you are, idiot. It’s been a long week.”

“And then some.”

“Why d’you think I exercised my executive right not to come along on the trip?”

His smile was wan. “I thought it was more to do with _who_ we were flying.”

“Well, that too, obviously. Barristers are quite possibly the lowest of the low.”

“So long flights followed straight by a long drive to Barrow….” He trailed off and shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s rather taken its toll.”

She looked at him, eyes flickering across the hollows of his face, his guarded expression causing an odd constriction across her heart. “Is that all, then?”

“Middle-aged exhaustion not enough?” 

“Oh, _poor_ pilot.” Her tone was mocking, an attempt to re-ignite their usual banter. “There’s always retirement if you can’t take the pace anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The r-word, Lyn? Coming from you?”

“Do I take this to mean you’re quite the expected level of tired from the flights….”

“I _did_ say that.”

“…but that your sombre countenance is due to something else entirely?”

He pulled her against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin and resting his cheek atop her hair. “I’m alright,” he murmured, and she sighed, not at all reassured but letting him hold her for a long moment, his heartbeat a comforting thud against her temple.

“You didn’t in fact answer my question, Douglas,” she countered as she pulled away to regard him, arms still encircling her.

He bent to brush his mouth across hers. “I thought we were here to enjoy the great outdoors?”

“Oh, stop. You’ve been evasive since the minute you opened your eyes this morning.”

He held her gaze, tone sobering. “I know I have.”

“So…?”

He broke away and exhaled, leading her by the hand towards a tree stump and sitting heavily onto it. She took a step back but he held her in place between his legs, his fingers running up the backs of her thighs to trace her hips, his head nestling in the soft curve of her stomach. She waited for him to begin speaking, tracing soothing circles across his shoulders, the nape of his neck.

“Barrow was….difficult,” he admitted at last, velvet baritone rough, cracking in his throat.

“Yes. I thought perhaps it had been.”

“More difficult than usual.”

“How so?”

“I think Emily is starting to believe her mother’s vitriol.”

Carolyn harrumphed. “I thought the girl had more sense.”

“To be fair, she _has_ been subjected to it since she was a child.” He inclined his head, the shift in pressure pleasant against her ribs. “And not all of it is entirely unjustified.”

“You’re a good father, Douglas.”

“That’s highly debatable.”

“You were in the grip of an addiction.”

“Regardless.”

“And anyway it’s hardly your doing that Sarah moved them three hundred miles away, is it?”

“Isn’t it?”

“ _No_ ,” she told him emphatically, squeezing his shoulders and pulling him closer. “What exactly happened?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Emily more-or-less ignored me the entire time, and Sarah was her usual passive-aggressive self….”

“Charming.”

“Though the visit _did_ end with my daughter telling me she really couldn’t care less when she sees me again.”

Carolyn felt her heart fracture at the despondency in his tone and she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, feathering her fingers through his hair. “She’s a teenager, Douglas. Try not to take it too much to heart.”

“Hm.”

“I know it’s easier said than done.”

“It’s most certainly that.”

“Well, you’re exhausted so that doesn’t help. Though arguably you’re entirely too soft-hearted at the best of times, despite you taking great pains to present something contrary to the rest of the world.”

“She’s my _daughter_.”

“I don’t just mean about Emily, you pillock.” She sighed, continuing to absent-mindedly stroke his neck. “Give her a few days. You’ll probably find she comes full-circle.”

“I hope so,” he murmured. “I really do.”

She allowed him a few further moments of quiet before tapping his shoulders with a decisive firmness. “Come on, then, misery guts. If you’re going to mope, it may as well be at home in the warm.”

He gave a soft grunt as she pulled away and encouraged him to his feet, glassy soprano calling for the dog who bounded towards her in immediate obedience. They walked the path back to the car in relative quiet, fingers linked together in the soft confines of his pocket.

* * *

She settled him on the sofa as soon as they stepped from the bitter afternoon chill, unwrapping the scarf from his neck and stripping him of his coat. He was compliant, allowing her to guide him onto the soft cushions and drape a fleece throw across his lap whilst she disappeared into the kitchen. She watched him as she busied herself at the kettle, as he let his head drop backwards when some of the tension began to drain away. His vulnerability had been exacerbated by exhaustion, but she was well aware that his relationship with his daughter cut right to his heart, to the centre of his self-worth. He blamed himself for the collapse of his marriages, for his absentee fatherhood, not allowing fault to be found anywhere else. For all of his external bravado, she knew him to be sensitive and self-critical, tending towards depressive episodes and periods of intense introspection. Living together had made her even more aware of his moods and how to console him, how to carefully rebuild his heart once it had begun to splinter.

With a gentle exhalation she poured boiling water into mugs, then reached for cream as an afterthought, extricating tea cakes from the grill and spreading them liberally with butter. She walked into the lounge and pressed cup and plate into his hands, commanding, “Here. Eat and drink. No arguments.”

He smiled, the lines around his eyes deepening. “You’re not the boss of me….”

“Ha.”

“At home, I mean.”

“Oh, of course I am. Now shut up and do as you’re told.”

He chuckled and she strode away to retrieve her own cup and plate, sinking onto the couch at his side and allowing him to envelop her legs with the blanket. They ate in companionable silence, Carolyn deftly collecting both empty plates moments later and depositing them on the floor before sliding closer towards him, his arm wrapping about her ribcage. The hot chocolate was decadent, comforting, and she felt him relax further as he sipped, his breath slowing as the stress began to dissipate.

She caught the mug as it began to fall from his fingers, suspecting that it would happen seconds before it did, and she dismissed his mumbled apology with a click of her tongue. She placed his cup onto the carpet and drained her own, straightening up to sitting and tugging at his arm to pull his head down to her lap. He was drowsy, surrendering to the bone-deep weariness that had engulfed him, and she brushed her fingers across his forehead, smoothing the stubborn lines. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and she stretched with her free hand to snag her book and reading glasses from the arm of the sofa. His breath was coming in a series of surrendering sighs as she ran her fingers through his hair, marvelling as she always did at its softness and gently massaging his scalp for good measure. He murmured as sleep began to take its hold, quiet incoherencies passing his lips as his body fell towards slumber, and she continued her caresses, determined to lull him into rest.

Outside, rain had begun to fall in earnest, clattering against the windows, and Carolyn reached to pull the blanket tighter about his body. He made a muted sound of protest as the action caused a temporary pause in her ministrations, and she smiled, returning to the task as soon as she was sure he was warm enough.

The minutes stretched into an hour as she read and tended to his comfort, and she found her own eyes beginning to ache in the lengthening shadows. He was sound asleep, limbs heavy in repose, and she had not the heart to wake him to transfer into their bed. Instead she squeezed him ever closer, relinquishing her book and letting her head loll back, the siren call of sleep overwhelming in the tranquil stillness.

FIN


End file.
